I’m not sure what’s happening, but some natural, organic process — maybe aging? maybe just living — is insisting that I simplify my life. A little voice in my head wants the same food for breakfast every day. My eyes feel tired of looking at all the stuff in my house: my great-grandmother’s tea cups, seashells I found in Key West displayed on a little wooden shelf bracket from Norway. The big drawer of loose photographs I never seem to deal with. Cast iron, mixing bowls, too many t-shirts.
I’m not a true hoarder, because I purge things every couple of years, and you can always walk unimpeded through my house. But there’s a lot of accumulation around me right now, and it’s driving me “bat guano crazy.” How many soup bowls does one woman need? I do not have house parties where luncheon for 12 is on the schedule. (more…)